


A Snow Day

by theladywinchester



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Bored Eleven, Broken TARDIS, Foiled by a piece of punctuation, Gen, Snowed In, Stranded, TARDIS Rooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-06
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-11-09 16:19:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11108253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theladywinchester/pseuds/theladywinchester
Summary: The Doctor is on his way to a beautiful tropical paradise for some rest and relaxation. Or so he thought, until one small typo changed things dramatically and he finds himself up against his greatest enemy: boredom.





	A Snow Day

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a prompt that called for character(s) facing off against or dealing with unexpected weather. 
> 
> The traitorous semi-colon is a nod to someone dear to me who spent nearly 12 hours trying to find the bug in code he was writing for a class only to realize he put a semi-colon in the wrong place. I'm sure anyone out there who programs can relate!

His existence has spanned centuries. He has seen whole planets and civilizations rise and fall while he continued on. He has traveled the length and breadth of time and space multiple times over. He has defeated both Daleks and Cybermen repeatedly, and will probably do so again. He has faced Weeping Angels without blinking. He is the Bringer of Darkness. He is the Oncoming Storm.

And he is bored.

The Doctor spun in his chair for the one thousand three hundred and twentieth time (not that he was counting). And, for the one thousand three hundred and twentieth time, he looked at the countdown display on the T.A.R.D.I.S.’s main console. A little more than four hours remained until the maintenance program finished running and they could leave.

“I know you need some TLC, old girl,” he muttered aloud, “but must it take so fiendishly long!” As if in response to his impatience, the countdown paused. “Sorry! So very sorry! My deepest apologies, m’lady! Take as long as you need!” he called out in a panic. Appeased, the T.A.R.D.I.S. resumed its countdown, and The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief before launching himself out of his chair, straightening his bow-tie, and waltzing down one of the many corridors that wove their way through the ship.

He let his feet wander while his mind lamented the series of events that led to this dreadful happenstance. First off, Amy and Rory were on one of their trips back home. Why they insisted they needed time away from their adventures was completely beyond him, but there was no resisting Amelia Pond when she was set on something. He and Rory had certainly learned that repeatedly over the years. Then, there was the T.A.R.D.I.S. needing some time off for routine repairs, which never happens at a convenient time. Finally, there was the slight miscalculation in his chosen landing site.

“One silly little semicolon in the wrong place...honestly...”

Now, he was exactly where he meant to be. Skeksi 13 was situated between multiple suns, granting it beautiful, summery weather nearly constantly. It was usually a gorgeous place with abundant flora and luxurious purple sand beaches alongside emerald green oceans. The tall bird-like Skeesians who lived there were exceedingly friendly, and the meals they prepared! His mouth watered just thinking about the roasted ulumens with a creamy padawa sauce he’d consumed in mass quantities during his previous visit.

But every few years, Skeksi 12--a solid mass of rock and ice--ended up passing briefly through its sibling’s orbit, causing a week of intense winter weather that brought the whole planet to a standstill. And that solitary, ever-so-slight, insignificant-seeming bit of text had him stuck on Skeski 13 in the middle of a blizzard so fierce his lips had frozen shut for a few moments when he dared open the T.A.R.D.I.S. upon landing. 

The first few hours had been fine, mind you. The Doctor busied himself with some of the physical repairs on the engine he’d been meaning to get to. He made a glorious mess in the kitchen while throwing together a meal with the most random ingredients he could find in his pantry and achieved a modicum of success (the hummus-and-pineapple ice cream didn’t quite come together as well as he’d imagined). After a thorough clean-up, he tried going for a swim, but the warm pool paled in comparison to the surf and sand he was currently missing. He took a walk through the greenhouse, but sighed as he thought of the prismatic roses and singing violets in the gardens he should be wandering instead. An attempt at a one-man interpretive dance version of “Hamlet” was thwarted nearly as soon as it began when it brought up memories of Skeesian performances that had brought tears to his eyes with their beauty. All of this sent him back to the main console room, certain it was almost time to be on their way, but facing a countdown not nearly complete. 

As this train of thought receded in the distance, The Doctor took note of where his feet had carried him. To his left was an expansive game room; to the right was an even more expansive library. Looking back and forth between the two, he brought his hand up to his chin and tapped a finger against his mouth, pondering his choices. Memories of playing games with others flashed through his mind, and he was painfully reminded of how inescapably alone he was at the moment. “Guess there’s nothing for it, then,” he decided, turning toward the library and pushing open the heavy gilded door.

Row upon row of books of every shape, size, and color ran along the walls as far as he could see. The Doctor closed his eyes and started twirling in a circle with one arm raised; when he stopped, his eyes sprang open and he nearly skipped to the set of shelves he’d been pointing to. “Let’s see, let us see…” His fingers skipped frantically back and forth along the spines in front of him as he considered his many options. He paused, shrugged, and used both hands to pull out a thick stack of books. Carrying them over to a plush looking chair, he set the pile down next to him and began to explore his haul.

He really had been ready to spend some time reading, honestly he had. Reading is good for the mind and all that. He even made it a good three chapters into “A Thorough and Expansive History of Judoon Warfare” before the itch set in. Tossing that ponderous tome aside, he snatched the next book from the pile, but “The Slitheen’s Ultimate Guide to Choosing the Right Human Suit for You” kept his attention for even less time, and he barely read the cover to “Working Your Adipose Off in Twelve Easy Steps” before springing out of the chair and back into the hallway, in search of more diversion.

But relief from the oppressive boredom was not to be found. He only tried on five outfits from the T.A.R.D.I.S. wardrobe before deciding chartreuse was definitely not his color and peacock feathers threw off the balance on his fez too much to be worth the hassle. More travels through the hallway involved opening nearly every door along the way, but closing them almost immediately when absolutely nothing caught his eye. Not the laser room, not the ball pit, not even the one-man band set he was trying to perfect--the tedium had infected him so deeply that The Doctor could find no relief.

Feet dragging, The Doctor made his slow, mournful way back to the main console, certain the countdown just HAD to be over by now. If there was any benevolence left in the entire, expansive, everlasting universe, it simply HAD to take pity on him and…

He pulled his eyes up from the floor to the display slowly, like a man facing his execution.

“0.0 seconds remaining. Shutdown complete.”

Like the flick of a switch, The Doctor went from condemned to exonerated. He pumped his arms wildly while dancing a jig around the entire console twice (not that he was counting). Coming to a stop in front of the navigation system, he brought up the fateful coordinates, made a quick adjustment, and slammed down the control lever in triumph. That old, familiar grinding noise filled the air, but it was no match for the shout of glee The Doctor could not seem to contain any longer. A scant few moments passed before the engine stopped. Running to the door, he flung it open and breathed deep the warm, fragrant air of a Skesi 13 in full bloom. A quick dash for his fez and some suntan lotion, then he was skipping out the door and into the blessed buzz of activity.


End file.
